My apologies are powerless
Useful for nothing
Damage done, no turning back now
No point in saying I'm sorry
To myself or anyone

All I can do is hope
You know I was powerless
To keep the tide from turning
I watched it wash over you
Unable to stretch out my hands for you to take hold of
To keep you safe from the undertow
They were tied
They might as well have been nailed to wood

Contemplating my predicament
I'm confused, uncertain
There had to have been a time, who knows how long ago
When the water flowed over me
Sometime, it had to have been a long time ago
The monster swallowed me whole
Only
To ***** my stinking body three days later, stained indelibly
(Three days is a long, long time)
Onto an empty beach, littered with broken glass, rocks and bottle tops
Signs that say, "No Swimming" and "Danger: Sharks!"

I'm sorry
Because I know how and I know why and I know where it's all gonna lead
I'm sorry
Because I'll never tell you
My apologies are powerless
Because they won't change a **** thing

Ah, look. The waters are still at last.
Somebody call a priest.

I used to paint my nails every month,
the night before chapel,
just to have something to scratch off the next day.
(Flakes of OPI No. 25 in the cracks of cheap pews)
Today I peeled the clear coat from my index finger in math
while I stared at a bottle of Diet Pepsi
Kept up at night by politics or teenage hormones, but usually both.
(Transferral: Catholic to Jewish, Madonna to Lindsey)
Steel replaced by fingertips, arms replaced by thighs.
A year ago, I wouldn't have believed I would be thinking of foreign policy puns at midnight,
even if Jesus himself had told me so.

Somewhere up yonder
A roll is to be called
One day and on that day
Rest assured
I will be there

I can't help it
I haven't felt it
But I think about it all the time
Whole notes are ghosts
Too often trodded upon
Lost in evolution
Or left behind
In the chase for nausea and bliss
I think about it all the time

You were expecting a circus?
Relax, baby, why you so nervous?
Settle down, babe, here, hit this
It'll redefine the term "circus"
You'll easily catch the blatant innuendo
Poorly hidden between the lines
A sort of circus envy for air-breathing man
Burning and bleeding man
The arrows which pierced Sebastian
Were meant for me and you

Who wants to listen to a little Duran Duran?
What?
Nobody?
Even if it's "Hungry Like the Wolf"?
Especially "Hungry Like the Wolf"!
The white wolf does get hungry
But it does not sit around ******* and moaning
Complaining about trivialities
London's infamous fang
Taught me everything I know
About wolves
This knowledge and understanding,
Almost a transferral of will,
Has saved my *** on many a treachorous occasion

McCartney...Sir McCartney...James Paul McCartney
I would likely have been much more popular in school
Had you chosen to use instead of choosing to be called Paul
You were called, Paul
Paul, you were called
Paul, you were called to a ministry
Of healing
Healing of the soul
Paul, you were called
Many things by a few
Their critical words vanished
****** into the void, infused with pollen
Your majesty's a pretty nice girl
McCartney won't you join me on my death bed
I called out to you as I was dying
I saw it clearly with my own two eyes
A prophecy, true and sure
Psychotic Messiah, Paul McCartney
You live in the future, you live in the past
But you die and are raised every moment by moment
Psychotic Messiah, not GG Allin
Who loseth thy soul long before severing thy mortal coil
Opening his heart to the foulness
Reveling in degradation
Pain blunted by much heavy use
Who drinks down deep the costliest grace
Without knowing
That
A trumpet will sound and a roll will be called
And if you're breathing the air
You're gonna be there
It doesn't matter what you think
Or what you believe or you do not believe
Justice is and will be served
Love overcomes hate in the moment


I can't pretend you give a rat's ***
For the words that are spurting from my brain
I won't pretend I ain't hurting, I'm not a Superman
My mind has deserted me more often than I remember

It's Dracula at the door, dear
Won't you let him in?
What's that you say?
The paths that Dracula doth trod
Are enshrouded with the fog of decay
None which pass his gaze are safe
From death and damnation
I beseech thee, leave the door open until he leaves.
I say, won't we be considered discourteous to our guest here?
Let the heathen think it if they so please
This visitation must be the portent of some novel evil
Hideous harbinger of an unhappy day
When the roll is called up yonder
When the trumpet is sounded I'll blow my own horn
You'll hear it for miles carried by a north wind
You may not recognize it as the trumpet of heaven
It might sound a lot like Miles Davis to you
Turning that horn into a life force

I can't help it, you know I can't help it
All the singers on Sirius XM's 40s on 4 are dead
I could be wrong but it's hard to imagine anyone living that long
They're dead as doornails and some flat plain forgotten
And it's a super ****** world that'll do that to you
Ride to the top, the top of the charts
Dig your way into a million hearts
Some forgotten, some revered
They sang they're song
Now they're gone
And that's why I'm gonna listen
Gotta  pay my respects to the old crew
They never knew new wave or metal or punk
Brains not contaminated with that horrid boy band junk
They knew a good tune when they heard one
They carried that weight for a short while
Everybody knows the voice of a singer
Is a glimpse into his soul, her beautiful soul
A glimpse most would die for
Even if for a day
A long day and tiring, glad for sleep
With it she shares more than even she knows
Understand that an aeon begins and ends
As surely as the day

Could it be nothing more than
A changing of the hands
Maturity, responsibility
No easy transferral
Or could it be the time has come
To believe in something more than we can see
Sit down in the sand and breathe
These years depend upon
The passing on of dreams
All we can conceive
We must train ourselves to live
On the outskirts of
Light and darkness
On the fringe of our own minds
In the place where they all join together
Described but never revealed
There is no air in heaven
We glow
And a mighty symphony
Manifests into an awesome physical being
That morphs and mutates
Infinitely amazing we are forever content
To watch and listen
As we are part of that symphony
Being seen and heard even now
By those who came before us